


World Enough And Time

by seki



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-22
Updated: 2018-04-22
Packaged: 2019-04-26 12:00:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,144
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14401722
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/seki/pseuds/seki
Summary: A dance, in the dark, and a confession.





	World Enough And Time

It's a dark, moonless night. One of the Citadel's infrequent formal parties is in full swing, the kind of event that Noctis was obliged to attend and always seemed to escape within the first hour.

Ignis finds him in the gardens, at the tiny koi pond his mother had allegedly designed herself. Noctis is barefoot, sitting on the wall next to the pond. Ambient light from the lanterns above the main walkway gives the scene a soft, blue-grey tone that makes him look rather ethereal, his severe formal wear washed into something almost flattering. His bare toes don't quite brush the surface of the water, but the fishes gather in colourful flurries in expectation of food even so.

"Noct," Ignis says. It's cold, but there's space on the wall next to Noctis, so Ignis sits, his back to the pond. Noctis's shoes are neatly stowed by the wall, his socks stuffed inside. "Not even twenty minutes this time."

A nonchalant shrug. "It's so stuffy in there."

"You should at least manage one dance. One of those ladies might be your wife one day."

Noctis makes an inelegant noise. "Unlucky for her. I bet you know I'm not interested in… them."

Ignis does, though Noctis isn't usually quite so direct in his hints. "Yes. I know."

That makes Noctis shift, turn where he is, his eyes narrowed at Ignis. "You know who I _am_ interested in?"

Names spring to mind. Handsome young Glaives that Noctis's eyes linger on. Crownsguard soldiers that Noctis seems a little too interested in. Some of the more dapper courtiers. Men, always, without an exception that Ignis has ever seen, and he's been paying the matter a lot of attention. And out here, in the semi-darkness, the truth seems easy to admit. "Not them, nor any girls who might be presented to you."

Noctis's eyes soften, and then he sighs and leans against Ignis's arm. "You noticed, huh."

"I noticed."

A huff of breath. "I noticed you noticing."

That's not surprising. Ignis's tastes run parallel to Noctis's; it was easy to notice Noctis's interest in men because Ignis was often looking at the same men. The reverse is probably true. "Did you also notice that I have to smooth over things with your disappointed suitors when you disappear like that?"

Noctis looks up, through his lashes, at Ignis. "Oops."

"Oops isn't an apology, Noct."

"How bad were they?"

"Dreadful." It's a lie. The young ladies of Insomnia are well-accustomed to Noctis's absence at these events, and Ignis's apologies had been met with understanding and wry acceptance. Still, guilt-tripping Noctis on the matter is about the only ammunition Ignis has. "The words they used would scorch silk."

"Huh, and now I'm sad I missed that." Noctis sits up, his movements languid and unhurried. "You gonna drag me back in there, then?"

"Of course not."

Noctis grins. "Good."

With the necessary reproachments out of the way, Ignis swings his legs over so he's facing the pond. He has to sit a little awkwardly to keep his shoes out of the water, and even so the fish flock beneath them, frantic with optimistic hunger. Once he's stopped shifting around, Noctis flops back against his arm.

The wind must have changed direction; it's now possible to hear the faint strains of music. Ignis can't help himself; he sighs. Even if Noctis hates these events, Ignis rather likes dancing. But if the Prince is absent, his Chamberlain can't really be seen taking a few turns around the floor. It would look like he wasn't concerned, or attempting to remedy the absence.

"Huh," Noctis says, and dips one toe into the water, which pulls all the fish quickly back to whirling beneath his feet. "Seriously, if it bugs you that much, I'll go back for a dance. Just one, though."

One dance would be worse than no dances, Ignis thinks, in terms of politics. "No. You'll appear to be picking a clear favourite if you dance with only one partner."

Noctis shoots Ignis a look. "What if I dance with you?"

"Even more confusion."

"Aw." Noctis leans back, kicks his feet out into the air, balancing in a ridiculous pose, and flutters his eyelashes at Ignis. "But you're my favourite, Specs."

"Even if I believed you, perhaps a dance floor would not be the place to demonstrate that to the assembled noble houses of Insomnia."

Noctis laughs, and then sits back up again. "I bet it'd be more fun with you than with those girls, though."

"Perhaps. Though neither of us knows how to follow."

"I could give it a whirl." Noctis lifts a hand, holds it as if he's a courtly lady at a ball inviting a man to ask for a dance. "Come on. Not back in there, out here."

Ignis blinks at the hand, surprised. But then he thinks, well, why not? Humouring Noctis's whims has, always, led to fun. He takes Noctis's hand, impishly lifts it to his lips in a kiss as if Noctis _were_ one of the prettiest debutantes in Insomnia -- and Noctis swats him on the back of the head for doing so -- and then they scramble off the wall, grinning at each other.

"Shoes," Ignis warns; the path is smooth marble, but there's gravel in the borders.

Once Noctis has crammed his feet back into his shoes, he holds out his arms towards Ignis and cocks his head to one side encouragingly. Ignis steps forward, adjusts Noctis's arms so they're in an open position; one hand high on Ignis's arm, other hand resting lightly in Ignis's grip.

The music is slow and stately, which simplifies things.

"And… one-two-three," Noctis says, laughter just audible in his voice, as they work through a few steps -- a bit awkwardly, Noctis not quite moving on the beat, presumably because he's struggling against all his training so he can reverse the steps. He makes a frustrated noise, and Ignis squeezes his hand in sympathy.

"Shall I try following instead?"

"No, I got this. Or, I will." Noctis squares himself and manages to make it through two consecutive sets smoothly and in time. As they start their third set, Ignis's shoe lands on some loose gravel, making his foot skid, and unbalancing them both. "Wow, seriously, we suck at this."

"Perhaps this is not our dance."

"Maybe it's just," Noctis says, and shifts his hand from Ignis's arm to Ignis's shoulder, steps in a bit closer, "you're holding me like I'm gonna slap you for touching me. Loosen up. Nobody's watching. If we step on each other's feet, big deal."

Ignis obeys, moves his hand down Noctis's back. This close a position would raise eyebrows back in the formal ballroom, but does make the dance feel easier when they resume it. And Noctis is right; it doesn't matter if it's just the two of them. Moves don't have to be precise. Ignis can just relax into it, spin Noctis around and ignore the little mistakes, enjoy the movement and the music and the way Noctis's back feels under his hand. They gradually grow more confident, until Noctis is just _beaming_ with happiness up at Ignis, so pleased with himself for following through a complex spin, and then the music stops in a sudden crescendo of horns and strings.

They awkwardly step back from each other as distant applause erupts, and Ignis drops his hands. "Ah. Well." 

Noctis looks as disconcerted as Ignis feels, stuffs his hands into his trouser pockets. "Yeah."

This won't do at all. Ignis bows down low. "My thanks for a splendid dance." He smiles as he straightens up again. "You're a quick learner."

"Yeah, well, you're a good leader."

The orchestra strikes up again, something a little faster this time, and Noctis turns his head in the direction it's coming from. Ignis holds out his hand, raises his eyebrows hopefully.

"I… you know what, sure," and Noctis takes Ignis's hand, pulls them in close enough that Ignis's right hip is against Noctis's left one. Ignis glances down at the contact, and then Noctis's other hand comes up and cradles the back of his head as Noctis pulls him down into a kiss.

It's soft, tentative, and Ignis barely has time to register it before Noctis lets go and pushes him backwards.

"Sorry," he says, looking _mortified,_ and then he bites his lower lip and looks away. "Sorry," he whispers, again.

Ignis touches his own mouth. It tingles, almost aches, as if blood had flowed there in anticipation of more sensation. "Noct," he says, and then swallows, lost for words. He steps forward, pulls Noctis into his arms for a hug that Noctis doesn't even protest.

He's been half-expecting this. More than half. Despite all his words about Noctis marrying one of the ladies of the court, despite all of the potential political problems involved and the consequences of such a thing, Ignis has speculated about their potential first kiss for a few years now. He's allowed himself a gamut of fantasies, from innocent confessions to lustful passion, and now--

Well, now Noctis is shaking in his arms, embarrassed and ashamed, and that won't do. "Noct," he murmurs into Noctis's hair. "You kissed me."

"Sorry."

"I liked it."

Noctis goes very still.

"You know I'm obliged to tell you we shouldn't do this." Ignis tightens his arms. "That done, I would like to kiss you again."

Noctis pulls away, looks up at him, hopefulness flaring in his eyes. "You… really?"

"Mm-hmm." Ignis lifts a hand, touches Noctis's cheek. "But only if it's the first of _many_. I'll get in too much trouble for this to be a one-off."

"Huh."

Ignis dips his head in invitation, and Noctis kisses him again, a little _less_ cautiously this time. It's still far too brief, in Ignis's opinion, and when Noctis pulls away he makes an involuntary noise of disappointment.

"Um," Noctis says, and then he looks over towards the Citadel. "I, just… someone might catch us."

He's right, but Ignis hears what's unsaid too: Noctis might want this, might want _him_ , but if they're to navigate whatever this is, then it needs not to be public.

"Unless you _want_ me to go spin you around the dancefloor, that is," Noctis adds, archly.

"I'd be spinning you, since that's what we're practising, and, best not. I'd rather not be responsible for all those broken hearts."

Noctis's eyes narrow in amusement, and he clasps Ignis's closer hand and tugs him in the direction of the kitchen door. A good notion; it should be unlocked until the servants leave later, and it will avoid them having to re-enter publicly. "You know, if this is a thing, that's gonna have to happen sooner than later."

"I'm well aware of that."

"And… you're okay with that?"

"One day." Ignis squeezes the hand in his. "I'd prefer to adjust to being allowed to kiss you before I'm asked to defend myself for doing so."

They're approaching the even more shadowy paths at the edge of the formal gardens, so it's not a surprise that Noctis dares to risk another kiss in response to that. Ignis allows it, allows himself to put his arms around Noctis, chuckles breathlessly when Noctis finally ends the kiss.

"Inside," Ignis says, and how ragged his voice sounds, "come on. The kitchen gardens are just through that door."

It takes them very little time to cross the kitchen gardens, and then it's simple to slip through the kitchens themselves. The servants and cooks and staff carefully turn a blind eye, long used to the two of them sneaking out of and back into the Citadel.

Despite the ease and swiftness of their passage, it's still _far_ too long before Ignis can close the door of Noctis's suite behind him.

And then they stare at each other for a few uncertain seconds before Noctis shakes his head. "Sorry," he says, his mouth twitching wryly at one side. "Just, um. I've wanted this for ages."

Ignis holds out a hand. "As have I."

"You mean," and Noctis lifts his own hand, links their merest fingertips together, "I could have kissed you _ages_ ago?"

"Yes."

" _Dammit_."

Ignis crooks his fingers, and Noctis obligingly steps forward. "I propose we make up for lost time."

"Yeah?" Noctis tilts his head to one side. "You're on."

"Race you to the bedroom?"

It's not actually a race, since Noctis is holding his hand and pulling him along behind, but it _is_ swift, and then they're collapsing laughing onto Noctis's bed together.

"Shoes," Ignis warns, but it's ignored as Noctis climbs on top of him and pins him by both hands. "Shoes--" he tries again.

He gives up as Noctis's mouth seeks his out again. Time enough for worries about treadmarks on the bedsheets later.

Right now, it's time to give _this_ dance a whirl.


End file.
